Running With The Boss Sound - Lyrics - Generation X

Title: Running With The Boss Sound
Artist: Generation X
Composer(s): Bob Andrews, Billy Idol, Tony James

Lyric:
Yesterday by the paper stand
I felt the power of another religion
Rebels with a cause came out of the sun
And spoke the only language they'd been given
Creepers tapping out the beat as I felt the heat

Man, they sure looked neat
Well, tonight for sure
You could feel the same as me
We didn't have to fight
On the other side of town

Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound

In the day we use machines or brains
'Cos we need hard cash for living
And later between tracks and raps with friends
We'll find some time for loving
Stratocasters straff the sky

As Disco Johnny hustles by
Man, those feet can fly, high
Well, tonight let's dance and risk romance
Baby, let's take a chance
We'll make it in a single bound

Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound

I feel it in the air and I know that you're there
We won't let you down
The phantoms of the underground

Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound

Racing wild with the radios blasting
Out ready, steady, go
As we rip through the charts
Crashing like angles
At the end of rocks rainbow

Electricity runs in my blood like Gods
Man, if you could see it
By tonight for sure you'd be the same as me
A junkie needing more
Our feet burning up the ground

Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound

Yeah, we're burning up the ground
Where the rockabilly beat pounds
With the ska rhythm pressing down
Where the skinhead moon stomp pounds
Where the heavy metal comes down

When the punk rockers are round
Yeah, you and I are found
Yeah, you and I are found

Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound
Running with the boss sound

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c890bbaabbe7f948294d137bdf733200

Underground (Single Version) - Lyrics - Best of Sight & Sound - David Bowie

Title: Underground (Single Version)
Album: Best of Sight & Sound
Artist: David Bowie
Composer(s): David Bowie

Lyric:
No one can blame you for walking away
Too much rejection
No love injection
Life can be easy

It's not always swell
Don't tell me truth hurts, little girl
'Cause it hurts like hell
But down in the underground

You'll find someone true
Down in the underground
A land serene
A crystal moon, ah, ah

It's only forever
Not long at all
Lost and lonely
That's underground
Underground

Daddy, daddy, get me out of here
Ha ha, I'm underground
Heard about a place today
Nothing never hurts again

Daddy, daddy, get me out of here
Ah ha I'm underground
Sister sister, please take me down
Ah ah I'm underground
Daddy, daddy, get me out of here

No one can blame you for walking away
Too much rejection
No love injection
But down in the underground

You'll find someone true
Down in the underground
A land serene
A crystal moon, ah, ah

It's only
It's only forever
It's not long at all
The lost and the lonely
That's underground

Underground
Daddy, daddy, get me out of here
Heard about a place today
Nothing never hurts again

Daddy, daddy, get me out of here
Ha ha, I'm underground
Sister, sister, please take me down
Ah ha I'm underground
Daddy, daddy, get me out

Wanna live underground
Wanna live underground
Wanna live underground
Wanna live underground

Wanna live underground
Wanna live underground
Wanna live underground
Wanna live underground

Daddy, daddy, get me out of here
Ah ha, I'm underground
Sister sister please take me down
Ah ha I'm underground
Ah ha I'm underground
Ah ha I'm underground

Daddy Daddy please
Daddy Daddy please
Wanna live underground
Wanna live underground
Wanna live underground
Sister sister take take me down
Sister sister take take me down

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9883458568f0715c7241a0fba1ff5301

Everyday All Day - Lyrics - Naughty By Nature - Naughty By Nature

Title: Everyday All Day
Album: Naughty By Nature
Artist: Naughty By Nature
Composer(s): Keir Gist, Marshall Jones, Allen Webster Gregory, Leroy Bonner, Anthony Criss, Walter Morrison, Andrew Noland, Vinnie Brown, Ralph Middlebrooks

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
This is somethin' that I call the flow
Not many if any 'cept for Vinnie can say they know
In fact detracting that is something that I rarely show
Because my tongue is actually fast but then again it's slow
See yo, you say cheeka boo
(Throw it bro)
A name pertained for niggas who, who
Who hear that name and place a trigger to the figure who
It blew through and if ya try ta rip, I throw a bigger blue shoe to you
And if you take the shoe, a nigga actor will do, ooh

Dressed to the best to impress but after they try to diss it
Well guess a nigga, I'll take a pistol
See who wants to be naughty or nicest
Like ice is I'm priceless, plug the mic to it
Come with the D with the I with the S to the S's, see whose hype is
Test the test the Treach to Treach address, the address
How I'll bless and blow any conflicts
Why to try to chrome, my style is just nonsense
M-my ni-ni-nigga m-m-mackin' so you get out of it

Any and all should fall, many are small should call
Naughty by Nature the creator of all y'all
Show hope, show no hope and can't cope, so no way
This is how we play everyday all day

Yo yo hey yo
Havin' a round of cadavva, gather matters is drastically
Never say never whenever whether we come on after thee
Hand to Gee the producer, me is loose off the claps ya see
That keeps you boogie 'n happily
Voice ya opinion, it's the rhythm I'm lendin'
The message I'm sendin' from London to Linley
Girls are given a chance to get ya all pampered
Leave them ol' cramps in your pants then I belly dance her

God is good and if you would, you should just
Play to the way I see 'em, play all day is what He'll bless
I'm leavin' 'em evil and seein' 'em bein' a torture with dull props
I won't give up 'til you had 'nough of these call shots
Now let the hard floor break your fall darlin'
'Cos on the shrift and Naughty Nature ain't waltzin'
When we dance we come full-thrust, the bum rush
Knockin' and poppin' and poppin' and sockin'
And rockin' dawn 'til dusk

I ain't the type to get suit-to-sike
I feel I'm better than ever before but as a rapper I'm just alright
Showin' time is for clocks, knockin' poppas
Pop pop you try to shine I make your heart work proper
And that's comin' from the drifter and if ya
R U N ya L I P, you will B E G O N E
So let the guests gettin' pass-ons, be bygones
Nevertheless is definitely hit and hits are what we strive on
We feel this way every single day all day
So make way

Wuz up to all you MC cub scouts, grub scouts gettin' rubbed out
I'll bet'cha kept ya album froze 'til this came out
Hittin' ideas to use, a half of us snit or two
Snatchin' and maxin' a rap that I'm castin', how dare you?
How the hell can you yell what someone else said?
I must get on what I loan, what I own on my forehead, huh
But I doubt that, and now you wanna back out
Your career had more ins and outs than a crack house

I'm mackin' 'n' rackin' 'n' cappin' the acts and I wax em wit-wit a smack
This scam he owes must judge me rough with a whiffle bat
And that's simply elementary Watson
So pack ya track and do 5 flat in your Datsun
Now let my canine backtrack the copy-cat
Your night life is up, so what you had, you gotta sound track
What's all with seven thousand other rappers, groupie
The cut ya made for that movie ain't soothed me

Who said that Treach can't work when he don't curse?
Some nasty ass me, Naughty, and nappy but happy
I'm all that and never go out the small way
You need a lift, we go this way everyday all day

Your little tape got more blank spots than a tank-top, think, stop
You oughta store it all, fast forward 'fore I ring props
You sorry sight, you're a immature rhyme ho
Come rock a lil' somethin', now we're all outta time so
From Chill town JC to Brooklyn with A D
I'm rippin' things daily, no if, ands or maybes
At the F L and the A V, the O U R B A B E
Kris, the Jungle Brothers, Tribe Called Quest, yeah they be

Down with Sha-k-a-m, pimp or, man, they swiftin'
Then the ruler Lord Ramsey, he comes handy on the roll again
Marked the 45, kids kneels feels the reals
With the real chill, not the run of the mill deals
Get poopoo dooie, producer Louie Louie
Throwin' best tracks to me to me
So that sometimes they do me
I can't forget the day live, the solo need a tongue patrol
A strong what up to the brothers from the Natcheo

We got the gatch to ya batch to rock and lock him
But now it's [Incomprehensible] I don't even try to outrun them
The stable now cocky, Lord Ali Raski and trueology
The sharper day with double jade is the props see
We also got the speaker Latifah, the Queen of the flavor
And nuthin' weaker behind is watchin', kick her
The Digital Under-the-Underground, rocks with Shock and 2PAC
With Money B, Humpty and Jimmy, the master of the charts

And on the tipple several brothers, we muskets
It's Tahid, Akeem, Cracker C and Cee Justice
Plus is the voice behind the Flavor Unit, all time, all early
It's that girlie, head of the headquarters Shirley
And what poop last but not least, Camille
I feel you learned the way we come this deep everyday all day

Y'knowhatI'msayin? We got the newest member of the Flavor Unit
Def Jef in effect, we got the producer of this track KayGee
We got my girl Nikki-D in the house
My man engineer all-star Dave
My man on the sax Andy
We got another engineer Andy and assistant Todd
We got Anj-Du, G-Quick

We got the whole entire 18th Street Posse, Rachim, Mook Daddy
Skee Steve, Hammer, Howie Cru-Ru, M-Dee, Tak Diesel, Na-Na
We got my girl Aphrodite and her posse in the house
Cherokee, [Incomprehensible] and Lisa
And we outta here like last year
'Cos we come this deep everyday all day
Peace

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f57f2264c771cae7f1c80a4adbec9715

South Bronx - Lyrics - Boogie Down Productions

Title: South Bronx
Artist: Boogie Down Productions
Composer(s): S La Rock, Lawrence Parker

Lyric:
This what you call hardcore, fat gospel street gospel

South South, Bronx
Yo where my people at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my heart is at?
South South, Bronx
C'mon let's bring it back
South South, Bronx

Raw rhymes for raw times
My albums are underground, but this blessing is all mine
And when it's tour time, we open more minds
You need to rethink who you think is the "Greatest of All Time"
I got this -- I'm raw like Freddie Foxxx is
Hardcore like The LOX is, Scott LaRock is where Tupac is
Where hip-hop is, Digital-ly Underground like Shock is
Oh yes -- I know where the top is
But I'd rather rhyme about how crooked some of these cops is
My synopsis ain't pretty
I'd stay, off them plains and, out the city if I were you
Do what you gotta do
But while you wave them flags, remember Amadou Diallo
Here's what we gotta do, follow
I'll put hip-hop in you if you're hollow
Those that already filled, still take swallows
Goin over potholes with Tahoes
You don't think +I+ know? Huh! I'm lookin at you right now
You ain't dancin in the club, you in your car, sittin down
You in the crib, on the low
You got them headsets on the go
You just saw me at the show oh you don't know?
It's the Temple of Hip-Hop, comin, with a whole different flow
Yo where them hoes at? I don't know
But wherever God at, I'ma go
I give 'em a hard rap and a flow
That's why when they call back for the show, with no video
We get up and go

Yo where it started at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my people at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my heart is at?
South South, Bronx
C'mon let's bring it back
South South, Bronx

South South, Bronx
Yo where my people at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my heart is at?
South South, Bronx
C'mon let's bring it back
South South, Bronx

Peep it out while I tell ya like this
In every single hood in the world I'm called Kris
It's the, truth for ya, it's the proof for ya
My Cristal passes more bars than lawyers
The underground sound, this is not easily found
You don't need no rings to be down
This is, past the platinum and gold
We already had 'em, it's old
Here's the truth if it be told, gather 'round
Philosopher style is known to be wild
If you only holdin them guns, who's holdin your child?
You got to be thinkin you know that you shrinkin
When the art of Navigation has been reduced to a Lincoln
Change the dial! I was free then and I'm free now
You free, runnin to MTV? I don't see how
You know the real from the fake, you know they stealin they cake
You know it ain't about the art, it's all about what they make
You know the radio's late, you know they play what you hate
That's why you got that Kay Slay tape, tryin to escape
You know the love of the cars and the rims
Tattooed arms and Timbs, are also called sins
You know you got to pay for these spins
You know the rap magazines be wack from beginning to the end
BO

South South, Bronx
Yo where my people at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my heart is at?
South South, Bronx
C'mon let's bring it back
South South, Bronx

I never was a king and I'm not the Pres
I'm a teacher like that reefer goin straight to your head
I'm a preacher tryin to bring my people back from the dead
I'm a leader tryin to keep you all away from the feds
You my sister I'll be tryin to get you out of the bed
I'm a philospher sayin what has got to be said
I don't fill you with lead, I bring that knowledge instead
Follow this dread, I'll take you from A to Zed
Who am I? Just a scholar called K-R-S
You can spend your money on others but they ain't blessed
You can spend your money drugs and still be stressed
Look around for conscious rappes yo there ain't none left
I'm holdin it downbetter yet I'm holdin up
Waitin for some young buck to come and sip from the cup
And continue with the menu puttin new knowledge in you
I got a question and a lesson cause I know what you been through
But

South South, Bronx
Yo where my people at?
South South, Bronx

Yo where it started at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my people at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my heart is at?
South South, Bronx
C'mon let's bring it back
South South, Bronx

The South South Bronx, boyeee

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df740918e655365bb4f91c929ace6176

South Bronx - Lyrics - A Retrospective - Krs One

Title: South Bronx
Album: A Retrospective
Artist: Krs One
Composer(s): S La Rock, Lawrence Parker

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
This what you call hardcore, fat gospel street gospel

South South, Bronx
Yo where my people at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my heart is at?
South South, Bronx
C'mon let's bring it back
South South, Bronx

Raw rhymes for raw times
My albums are underground, but this blessing is all mine
And when it's tour time, we open more minds
You need to rethink who you think is the "Greatest of All Time"
I got this -- I'm raw like Freddie Foxxx is
Hardcore like The LOX is, Scott LaRock is where Tupac is
Where hip-hop is, Digital-ly Underground like Shock is
Oh yes -- I know where the top is
But I'd rather rhyme about how crooked some of these cops is
My synopsis ain't pretty
I'd stay, off them plains and, out the city if I were you
Do what you gotta do
But while you wave them flags, remember Amadou Diallo
Here's what we gotta do, follow
I'll put hip-hop in you if you're hollow
Those that already filled, still take swallows
Goin over potholes with Tahoes
You don't think +I+ know? Huh! I'm lookin at you right now
You ain't dancin in the club, you in your car, sittin down
You in the crib, on the low
You got them headsets on the go
You just saw me at the show oh you don't know?
It's the Temple of Hip-Hop, comin, with a whole different flow
Yo where them hoes at? I don't know
But wherever God at, I'ma go
I give 'em a hard rap and a flow
That's why when they call back for the show, with no video
We get up and go

Yo where it started at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my people at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my heart is at?
South South, Bronx
C'mon let's bring it back
South South, Bronx

South South, Bronx
Yo where my people at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my heart is at?
South South, Bronx
C'mon let's bring it back
South South, Bronx

Peep it out while I tell ya like this
In every single hood in the world I'm called Kris
It's the, truth for ya, it's the proof for ya
My Cristal passes more bars than lawyers
The underground sound, this is not easily found
You don't need no rings to be down
This is, past the platinum and gold
We already had 'em, it's old
Here's the truth if it be told, gather 'round
Philosopher style is known to be wild
If you only holdin them guns, who's holdin your child?
You got to be thinkin you know that you shrinkin
When the art of Navigation has been reduced to a Lincoln
Change the dial! I was free then and I'm free now
You free, runnin to MTV? I don't see how
You know the real from the fake, you know they stealin they cake
You know it ain't about the art, it's all about what they make
You know the radio's late, you know they play what you hate
That's why you got that Kay Slay tape, tryin to escape
You know the love of the cars and the rims
Tattooed arms and Timbs, are also called sins
You know you got to pay for these spins
You know the rap magazines be wack from beginning to the end
BO

South South, Bronx
Yo where my people at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my heart is at?
South South, Bronx
C'mon let's bring it back
South South, Bronx

I never was a king and I'm not the Pres
I'm a teacher like that reefer goin straight to your head
I'm a preacher tryin to bring my people back from the dead
I'm a leader tryin to keep you all away from the feds
You my sister I'll be tryin to get you out of the bed
I'm a philospher sayin what has got to be said
I don't fill you with lead, I bring that knowledge instead
Follow this dread, I'll take you from A to Zed
Who am I? Just a scholar called K-R-S
You can spend your money on others but they ain't blessed
You can spend your money drugs and still be stressed
Look around for conscious rappes yo there ain't none left
I'm holdin it downbetter yet I'm holdin up
Waitin for some young buck to come and sip from the cup
And continue with the menu puttin new knowledge in you
I got a question and a lesson cause I know what you been through
But

South South, Bronx
Yo where my people at?
South South, Bronx

Yo where it started at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my people at?
South South, Bronx
Yo where my heart is at?
South South, Bronx
C'mon let's bring it back
South South, Bronx

The South South Bronx, boyeee

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f0587f4630b27ac10a9ac9242b1d2557

Wussup Wit The Luv [Single Version] - Lyrics - The Best Of Digital Underground: Playwutchyalike - Digital Underground

Title: Wussup Wit The Luv [Single Version]
Album: The Best Of Digital Underground: Playwutchyalike
Artist: Digital Underground
Composer(s): Ron Brooks, Tupac Amaru Shakur, Gregory E Jacobs, Michael Hampton, Cleveland Askew

Lyric:
Wussup wit the love, wussup wit the love?
Wussup wit the love, wussup wit the love?

Now, men want racism, black folks in prison, me bar
What's goin' on with the luh-uh-ove?
Boo-ya-kaw is the sound, brothers goin' down in the worst way
I got my son a gun for his birthday

Now we've had enough, everybody wants to be tough
But I give the props to brothers on my level
Instead of trying to be above
'Cause I see nothin' feminine about givin' your brother some love

Look deeply in each other's eyes, you know we are the ones
Racism is a cloud that blocks us from the sun
One brother speaks in African, one sings Jamaican songs
Both of them are black men, but they still can't get along

Wussup wit the love, wussup wit the love?
Wussup wit the love, wussup wit the love?
Wussup wit the love, wussup wit the love?
Wussup wit the love, wussup wit the love?

Mommy and Daddy they got married, they make love every night
But Momma's gettin' tired, and Poppa hits the pipe at night
I see 'em kissin' wishin' I got the props that Pops, I mean the rocks, got
I hope she hugs me, 'cause she never dug me

I figure still I hustle, tussle with the fool at school
The one that Momma sold my sneakers, thought she says he's freakin' her
Had the doubt until I caught 'em, then I fought 'em, then she slapped me
Hollered at me talkin' 'bout I messed up her ten dollars

Goddamn! Drug dealers dealin' to the kiddies
Livin' in the city ain't no pity on the itty-bitty
We try to cry, but still they all die
I try to speak to the youth, and the truth is they all high

What can I say but watch your back, youngster
As I sit and wonder, my other brother's steadily goin' under
It's like a curse, and it hurts 'cause it's worse
Momma's crazy 'cause her baby's in a hearse
Wussup wit the love?

This land once owned by Indians, who then would learn to burn
A tragedy, because from them there was so much to learn
You will find the key to life is checking for you friends
Everything's gonna be alright
I got to let you know that I'm in love with you

(Dope fiends sellin' their babies)
I'm so in love with you
(I know man, you can't even say 'what's up' to a brother no more)
People, I'm in love with you
(Fool talkin' about 'what's up', fool don't know me man)

Yes I'm in love with you
(I put one in him! Hey, yo, you got your thang?)
Yeah, man, I'm strapped let's go hit 'em

It blows my mind to see so many people sufferin'
(So many people)
It blows my mind to see so many people down
(Everybody's down)

And I just can't understand, why there must be such fighting
(Everybody's acting crazy)
It blows my mind to see the pain that's all around
(The pain that's all around)

Wussup wit the love, wussup wit the love?
Wussup wit the love, wussup wit the love?
Wussup wit the love, wussup wit the love?

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2ad4d7e50057e687d5798d0fc15fc802

South Bronx 2002 - Lyrics - Spiritual Minded - Krs One

Title: South Bronx 2002
Album: Spiritual Minded
Artist: Krs One
Composer(s): Lawrence Parker

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
This what you call hardcore, fat gospel, street gospel

(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my people at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my heart is at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
C'mon let's bring it back
(South, South, Bronx!)

Raw rhymes for raw times
My albums are underground, but this blessing is all mine
And when it's tour time, we open more minds
You need to rethink who you think is the greatest of all time
I got this, I'm raw like Freddie Foxxx is
Hardcore like The LOX is, Ccott La Rock is where Tupac is
Where hip-hop is, digitally underground like shock is
Oh yes, I know where the top is
But I'd rather rhyme about how crooked some of these cops is

My synopsis ain't pretty
I'd stay, off them plains and, out the city if I were you
Do what you gotta do
But while you wave them flags, remember Amado, Diallo
Here's what we gotta do, follow
I'll put hip-hop in you if you're hollow
Those that already filled, still take swallows
Goin' over potholes with Tahoes

You don't think, I know? Huh! I'm lookin' at you right now
You ain't dancin' in the club, you in your car, sittin' down
You in the crib, on the low, you got them headsets on the go
You just saw me at the show, oh you don't know?
It's the temple of hip-hop, comin', with a whole different flow
Yo where them hoes at? I don't know
But wherever God at, I'm-a go, I give 'em a hard rap and a flow
That's why when they call back for the show, with no video
We get up and go!

Yo where it started at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my people at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my heart is at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
C'mon let's bring it back
(South, South, Bronx!)

Yo where it started at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my people at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my heart is at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
C'mon let's bring it back
(South, South, Bronx!)

Peep it out while I tell ya like this
In every single hood in the world I'm called Kris
It's the, truth for ya, it's the proof for ya
My Cristal passes more bars than lawyers
The underground sound, this is not easily found
You don't need no rings to be down
This is past the platinum and gold
We already had 'em, it's old

Here's the truth if it be told, gather 'round
Philosopher style is known to be wild
If you only holdin' them guns, who's holdin' your child?
You got to be thinkin' you know that thinkin' you shrinkin'
When the art of navigation has been reduced to a Lincoln
Change the dial! I was free then and I'm free now
You free, runnin' to MTV? I don't see how

You know the real from the fake, you know they stealin' they cake
You know it ain't about the art, it's all about what they make
You know the radio's late, you know they play what you hate
That's why you got that Kay Slay tape, tryin' to escape
You know the love of the cars and the rims
Tattooed arms and timbs, are also called sins
You know you got to pay for these spins
You know the rap magazines be wack from beginning to the end
Bo!

Yo where it started at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my people at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my heart is at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
C'mon let's bring it back
(South, South, Bronx!)

Yo where it started at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my people at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my heart is at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
C'mon let's bring it back
(South, South, Bronx!)

I never was a king and I'm not the pres
I'm a teacher like that reefer goin' straight to your head
I'm a preacher tryin' to bring my people back from the dead
I'm a leader tryin' to keep you all away from the feds
You my sister I'll be tryin' to get you out of the bed
I'm a philosopher sayin' what has got to be said
I don't fill you with lead, I bring that knowledge instead
Follow this dread, I'll take you from A to Zed

Who am I? Just a scholar called KRS
You can spend your money on others but they ain't blessed
You can spend your money drugs and still be stressed
Look around for conscious rappers yo there ain't none left
I'm holdin' it down, better yet I'm holdin' it up
Waitin' for some young buck to come and sip from the cup
And continue with the menu puttin' new knowledge in you
I got a question and a lesson 'cause I know what you been through
But

Where it started at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my people at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my heart is at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
C'mon let's bring it back
(South, South, Bronx!)

Yo where it started at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my people at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
Yo where my heart is at?
(South, South, Bronx!)
C'mon let's bring it back!
The South, South Bronx, boy

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934febbbfc01bcdc2f49dd2e1a74ae41

Jump {From Love Actually} - Lyrics - Sound Of The Underground (Single) - Girls Aloud

Title: Jump {From Love Actually}
Album: Sound Of The Underground (Single)
Artist: Girls Aloud
Composer(s): Stephen Mitchell, Gary Skardina, Marti Sharron

Lyric:
Your eyes, tell me how you want me
I can feel it in your heart beat
I know you like what you see
Hold me, I'll give you all that you need

Wrap your love around me
You're so excited, I can feel you
Getting hotter, oh baby

I'll take you down, I'll take you down
Where no one's ever gone before
And if you want more
If you want more, more, more

Then jump for my love
Jump in and feel my touch
Jump, if you want to taste my kisses in the night then
Jump, jump for my love

I know my heart
(I know my heart can make you happy, can make you happy)
Jump in, you know these arms
(You know these arms can feel you up, can feel you up)
Jump, if you want to taste my kisses in the night then
Jump, jump for my love

You told me, I'm the only woman for you
Nobody does you like I do
Then make a move before you try and go much further
Oh baby

You are the one, you are the one
And heaven waits here at my door
And if you want more
If you want more, more, more

Then jump for my love
Jump in and feel my touch
Jump if you want to taste my kisses in the night then
Jump, jump for my love

I know my heart
(I know my heart can make you happy, can make you happy)
Jump in, you know these arms
(You know these arms can feel you, can feel you up)
Jump if you want to taste my kisses in the night then
Jump, jump for my love

When you are next to me
(Ooo)
Oh, I come alive
(Yeah)

Your love burns inside
(Ooo)
Oh, it feels so right
(Hey)
Come to me if you want me tonight, jump

I know my heart
(I know my heart can make you happy, can make you happy)
Jump in, you know these arms
(You know these arms can feel you up, can feel you up)
Jump, if you want to taste my kisses in the night then
Jump, jump for my love

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12c7429542f9694d168333efcc99c167

The American Dream - Lyrics - The Good Times - Afroman

Title: The American Dream
Album: The Good Times
Artist: Afroman
Composer(s): Joseph Foreman

Lyric:
Yes, yes thank you for inviting me here for my final speech
Ladies and gentlemen, homosexuals, lesbians, and transvestites
Allow me to introduce myself as the Hungry Hustler, Afroman
I am the American dream
Even though the government tried to experiment with me
By placing me in the projects, I'm still the American dream
Surrounded by drugs, jeopardized my life by living around thugs
But I'm still the American dream

Kicked outta Palm dale High School because I was considered
A distraction to the educational process
I've traveled through the complete metamorphosis of the justice system
And I'm still the American dream
Entered Juvenile Hall as a tadpole, hopped outta prison as a bull frog
But I'm still the American dream
The most rejected, disrespected, when I went for a job
I was never selected but I am still the American dream

And right about now, I find it quite serendipitous to see
That all of you some-time in, wishy-washy, two-faced, back-stabbin'
Conniving hypocrites have accumulated here in my midst
To persecute my character with such flagrant slanderousity
But I counter-attack by calling it constructive criticism
And all of your negativity has been recycled into motivation
And I am still the American dream

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found, was blind, but now I see
There's a lot of people out there who can identify with me
Young lady right here, you may be a single teenaged mother
But you are still the American dream
The lady next to you, yes, your breasts may not be as big
As men think they should be, but you are still the American dream
Young man, you may not be a baller, shot caller, with 20 inch blades
On the impala, but you are still the American dream

Young man right here, you may have spent all your money
On a hood rat bitch and didn't get no pussy last night
But you are still the American dream
Yes sir, I am just like Ham I'm for the black man
The Mexican, and even poor white all human beings that have no rights So put down your past, pick up your future
Follow me as we journey through the Red Sea, 'cause I have

Been to the mountain top, I've seen the promised land
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the underground category
My mind has been delivered my spirit has been reinstated
From the corporate world's modern-day slavery
I've been emancipated, free at last, free at last fuck a drug test
I'm fittin' to roll some grass, love, peace, and Afro grease, forever

A-E-I-O-U, and sometimes W
'Cuz I'm high, 'cuz I'm high, 'cuz I'm high

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2990d9a6574563f9453458adab62cdd5

Blood Sweat And Tears - Lyrics - M.O.P.

Title: Blood Sweat And Tears
Artist: M.O.P.
Composer(s): J Grinnage, L Elliott, E Murry

Lyric:
Yo, yo c?mon son
Yo, they killin' 'em out there, son
They dyin' out there, son, word up
Yo they killin' us, son, I?m tellin' you

Y?all niggas c?mon that?s my word
Y?all better c?mon, yo wake up, son
They dyin', son
Yo, c?mon nigga, wake up, c?mon

It took me twenty-four years to figure out
What makes this world go round
It?s not man holding ground with dope sound
We gots to ask

Why do you feel that a meal can make you ill
When you know that broke bill can still
See right through your plastic ass
Before crack was a sport and we had thoughts of getting busy

Before death left and fame had his way
The town Brownsville, the place, the ill
Follow the trail of fresh blood drips
You?ll end up on my bricks

The marks, home of the warrior thrown home
Our true thugs that?s dead and gone
In the hills most effective chrome
Return to these graves

Showin' youngsters what I?m facin'
'Cause we had trouble
We been strugglin' since single shot gauges
That?s straight ghetto bad luck

But, I done passed up more shit
Than you may ever touch
What, we on sacred grounds
Without the guidance of our fathers

All we know is how to double clutch revolvers
Me and my own staff flaunt a different path
I?m tryin' to dip shit minus in your highness
The finest of kickin' half

Honest to god, I?m layin' down my card
It?s been hard, for too many years
Blood sweat and tears

These three words
(Man, got somethin' to say)
Blood, sweat, tears
(Mop family)

These three words
(We went to the death, we knew he was dead and gone)
Blood, sweat, tears
(We comin' all the way from New York City, hear me out)

These three words
Blood, sweat, tears
These three words
Blood, sweat, tears

Go head nigga
A whole lot changed since my brother left
(I can feel you, baby)
And since my mother?s death
(I can feel you, baby)

But as time past, I could see my life flash
Leavin' the body and there?s no breath
(I can feel ya)
I chose not to let my Biretta swing

'Cause I?m a veteran
And I?m livin' for the better things
It?s cold-hearted B
Check the majority of blacks
They slingin' crack, livin' in poverty
(True life testament)

What you gotta do is live what your life give
And make the best of it
(Try to see the rest of it)
'Cause you could easily fall victim to these streets
And death?s most definite
(Blood)

Is for the brothers that died
The mothers that cried
The brothers that tried
All we do is
(Sweat)

Steady, puttin' to work
Handling dirt, holding your turf
We all shed for the loved ones
(Tears)
The thug ones and all deceased peers

And while these other cats play hard
I'ma praise God
And thank God that I?m here
Blood sweat and tears

These three words
(Till the break of dawn)
Blood, sweat, tears
(Birella)

These three words
(Till the break of dawn)
Blood, sweat, tears
(Twenty-one gun salute)

Ghetto nigga, street nigga
House nigga, we all niggas
Black on black crime cause niggas drop dimes
You put down yours but I'm?a keep mine
I'm?a keep mine nigga

Uncle Sam don?t drop his shit for nobody
So nobody gonna take my shit from me
So while you house niggas is fighting for the limelight
I be down here with my niggas

Underground, dirty
Holdin' mine, house nigga
Blood sweat and tears

Blood, sweat, tears
These three words
Blood, sweat, tears

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86763189cf5c069f154bc721eb6655c2

To My People - Lyrics - Flipmode Squad

Title: To My People
Artist: Flipmode Squad
Composer(s): R Lewis, R Mcnair, R Fisher, Leroy Jones, G Spivey, Trevor Smith, R Evens, J Webb

Lyric:
Ya don't stop to my people in the front
Ya don't stop to my people in the rear
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people on the left

Ya don't stop to my people on the right
Ya don't stop to my people everywhere
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people in New York

Ya don't stop to my people down south
Ya don't stop to my people out west
Say what, throw your hands in the air
To my hip hop niggas, ya don't stop

To my niggas in the street, ya don't stop
To my niggas gettin' money, say what
Throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop

Uh, straight off the bat
My squad is known across the map
When y'all niggas show love
Then we show you love back

Y'all niggas want beef
Fuck it take it to the streets
Y'all niggas gon' chill
Then we sit down and we build

My squad finally here
Unit of the year
We settin' up shop
And we ain't going nowhere

We want it all
Even if we gotta brawl for it
We want it all
Even if you gotta fall for it

We stage wreckers, fifty two car deckers
Reppin' to the world till the law come and get us
You jealous fellas
I'm puttin' holes in vendettas

Twist your body
With two shells from a shottie pow
Niggas wanna get me touched
(Naw, they cant touch you)
Shinin' and flossin' too much
(Naw, they can't cross you)

Light on my toes
Left him ten feet
Part from his heat
Play it softly

The truth speaks through this poetry
For me to call shot
Cock block my life
Add a little spice

Devil eyes snake rise on dice
Have your fam call Christ
Flipmode battle for mics
All my shit be high priced

I'm slashing dikes, feel me
Liftin' thugs out they crease it's quickly
Shift two keys in two weeks
And gross forty g's

Report me and live shortly
Slouch cat livin' off calibil breeze
You wanna get involved
Better grip on tight, take the next flight
We got it locked on the next bike

Check it out
I got the eye of a tiger
That's plan to go higher
My squad is on fire

And till death do us
If the label wanna sue us
Yo I'm taking the reels
I'm the man with the gat that be ready to peel

I'm the one next to Spliff when it's time to ill
I'm a show by astro red cross and blue shields
Watch us make a move
Catch us on smokin' groove

Rules house of blues, MTV news
On the bus with my Flipmode loco
(Loco)
Takin' flicks, hittin' chicks by the dozen
(Dozen)

Keep a shot runnin'
Now I'm on a journey
It take you twenty light years to burn me
(Burn me)
If you want beef call my attorney
All that other wack shit don't concern me

I'm being felt
I got a title under my belt
I'm out to get the wealth
I'm 'bout my squad and myself

Ya don't stop to my people in the front
Ya don't stop to my people in the rear
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people on the left

Ya don't stop to my people on the right
Ya don't stop to my people everywhere
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people in New York

Ya don't stop to my people down south
Ya don't stop to my people out west
Say what, throw your hands in the air
To my hip hop niggas, ya don't stop

To my niggas in the street, ya don't stop
To my niggas gettin' money, say what
Throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop

Uhh, comin' correct for all my Flipmode brothers
Stats ratin' higher then that of single mothers
Peace to my Outz clique
Bitches that I bounce with

Everybody else get the gas like Auschwitz
Like, flows for real like a rap bitch should
Type takin' niggas out like they packaged goods
Rappers wanna contest

They buggin', straight up and down
We run the underground like H. Tubman
What, I'm the bomb bitch
Nigga Rah, D I G got Rah

God be my witness
Long as I walk this globe
I be spittin' more verses
Than the 'Book of Job'

Why are you ignoring us
Running into hiding and avoiding us?
Niggas on the low be recording us
My rhyme flow remain poisonous

Thus
Yo your shit sound wack still annoying us
We alive nigga ain't no destroying us
You better off if you come join with us

Perpendicular
Or analyzing my whole molecular
In particular
Roll with my squad or go singular

I ain't into bitches who fuck animals like caligula
More hot shit so get your water sprinkler
Fire extinguisher, rhyme, prime minister
C'mon

Never mistake me for nobody else
Another blast make you shit on yourself
I hope all y'all know that I always master the art
Rip you apart

Put your hand on my heart
Flipmode number one on the charts
Solo or collective
My perspective the objective
Is to win

All praises due to my squad one in the same
Cherish every blessing
I have to make y'all witness my name
Burn another calorie

Come inside my galaxy
Put your money where your mouth is double your salary
Hey dude you know we stay rude high on a aquelude
Bust your shit bouncin' in a Honda Prelude

Let's G off
Nigga ease off
I make you breeze off
Brickfull make you rip your jeans off

Ya don't stop to my people in the front
Ya don't stop to my people in the rear
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people on the left

Ya don't stop to my people on the right
Ya don't stop to my people everywhere
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people in New York

Ya don't stop to my people down south
Ya don't stop to my people out west
Say what, throw your hands in the air
To my hip hop niggas, ya don't stop

To my niggas in the street, ya don't stop
To my niggas gettin' money, say what
Throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop

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997308a83afd0c54f283a4ddec5a5fee

Symphony 2000 - Lyrics - Epmd

Title: Symphony 2000
Artist: Epmd
Composer(s): Erick Sermon, Chanelle Jones, Parrish Smith, Clifford Smith, Reggie Noble

Lyric:
Yeah, Erick Sermon, EPMD, yeah, check it
Redman, Method Man, Lady Luck, Def Jam
Erick and Parrish Millenium Ducats
Hold me down, hold me down

Yo, I grab the mic and grip it hard like it's my last time to shine
I want the chrome and the cream so I put it down for mine
Ill cat, slick talk, slang New York
To break it down to straight English, what the fuck you want?
Remember me? You punk faggot crab emcee
Get your shit broke in half for fuckin' around with P
Aiyyo strike two, my style Brooklyn like the Zoo
Hey you, look nigga, one more strike you through
Word is bi-dond, rock Esco, Fubu, and Phat Fi-darm
Every time I get my spit on, no doubt, I spark the gridiron
I step up and bless the track and spit a jewel
We keeps cool, no need for static, I strap tools
Next up

Yo, I believe that's me
Yo, get on the mic and rock the symphony

Yo P, time to rock, the sound I got, it reigns hot
Makin' necks snap back, like a slingshot
E hustle, and muscle my way in
Then tussle for days in, on my own with guns blazin'
Not for the fun of it, just for those who want me to run it
Then leave them like who done it?
Sucka duck, I do what I feel right now
When I spit the illest shit, cats be like, "Wow!"
Yo! I get looks when I'm in the place
That's that nigga, makin' you smile with Scarface
It ain't my fault, that my style Silkk enough to shock ya
Hit you with the fifth, block-a block-a
If I get caught you can bet I'll blow trial
Be downtown swingin', M.O.P. style
Next up

Yo yo, it's Funk D.O.C.
Yo, you're on the mic to rock the symphony

Yo yo, did you ever think you would catch a cap?
Yo, did you ever think you would get a slap?
Yo, did you ever think you would get robbed
At gunpoint, stripped and thrown out the car?
It's Funk Doc, you know my name Hoe
My style dirty underground, or Ukraine po'
When it hits you, pain pumps Kool-Aid, through the vein and shit
Snatch the trap then I dash like Damon did
Doc, walk, thin red lines to shell shock

Hairlock with fuckin' broads in nail shops
Hydro? Got more bags than bellhops
Two thousand Benz on my eight by ten picture
Papichu', slayin' crews in ICU
Battlin', usin' hockey rules
For Keith Murray, Doc gon' cock these tools
Rollin' down like dice in Yahtzee fool
I "Just do it" like Nike, outta 'Bama
With ten kids with hammers, hooked to a camper
Yo, next up

It's the G O D
Yo yo, get on the mic for the symphony

Youth on the move, payin' them dues, nuttin' to lose
Huh, street kids, broken and bruised, eyein' yo' jewels
Huh, bad news, barin' they souls through rhymin' blues
Hardcore to make them brothers act fool
Hands on the steel, flip you heads over heel
Smell the daffodils from the lyric overkill
Feelin' like the mack inside a Cadillac Seville
Too ill, on cuts, the Barber of Seville, figaro
The sky is fallin', Geronimo
I feel my high comin' down lookout below
Aiyyo, dead that roach clip and spark another

Chickenhawks, playin' theyselves like Parker Brothers
I rock for the low-class, from Locash
The broke-assed, even rock for trailer park trash
Yeah yeah, the God on your block like Godzilla
Yeah yeah, she gave away my pussy I'ma kill her
John John phenomenon, in Japan they call me Ichiban
Wu-Tang Clan, numba won
In the whole nine, I hold mine
Keep playin' with it kid, you might go blind, jerkoff
Fuck them A.K.A., for now it's just Meth
That's it, that's all, solo, single no more no less

Next up
I believe that's me
Bastard
Get on the mic and rock the symphony

Mrs. Stop Drop and Roll, rocks top the told
Hot, even though dames is froze
Pop close range at foes, and blaze them hoes
Leave 'em with they brains exposed, and stains on clothes
Y'all better change your flows, hear how Luck spittin'?
Stay drunk-pissed in the S-Type, stay whippin'
When the guns spittin', duck or get hittin'
It's written, we in the game but ball different
Point game like Jordan, y'all play the role of Pippen
Style switchin', like tight ass after stickin'
Man listen, stop your cryin' and your bitchin'
Like E and P's last CD, you're out of business

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d445017e89ad4b2648bc56abb445a5ff

Black Zombie - Lyrics - The Lost Tapes - Nas

Title: Black Zombie
Album: The Lost Tapes
Artist: Nas
Composer(s): T Spearman, Nasir Jones

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Uh

Yo, you believe when they say we ain't shit, we can't grow?
All we are is dope dealers and gangstas and hoes?
And you believe when they be tellin' you lie, all on the media?
They make the world look crazy to keep you inside?

Why you listen when the teachers at school?
Know you a young single parent out strugglin', they think you a fool
Give your kids bad grades and put 'em in dumber classes
Killin' shorty future, I wonder how do we last it

Underground in they casket? Ancestors turnin'
I'm learnin' somethin' every day, there is no Lazareth
Words like God is Greek or Latin
So, if you study Egypt, you'll see the truth written by the masters

My niggaz is chillin', gettin' high, relaxin'
Envisionin', ownin' shit, yo, it can happen
What do we own? Not enough land, not enough homes
Not enough banks, to give a brother a loan

What do we own? The skin on our backs, we run and we ask
For reparations, then they hit us with tax
And insurance if we live to be old, what about now?
So, stop bein' controlled, we black zombies

Walkin', talkin' dead, though we think we're livin'
(Black zombies)
We just copy cat, followin' the system
(Black zombies)

Walkin', talkin' dead, though we think we're livin
(Black zombies)
We just copy-cat, followin' the system
(Black zombies)

Aiyo, we trapped in our own brain, fuck behind bars
We've already gone insane
They've already gave up, cut our own heads offs
Stab our own backs and dream too much

Without fulfillin' reality, too greedy and
Can't have one or two chains, we need three of dem
Can't have one or two guns without squeezin' 'em
On our own people and fuck black leaders

'Cause whites ain't got none leadin' them, the rhythm is cosmic
Nas is divinity, the deity's prophetless
All get down and get up
Victims walkin' 'round with down's syndrome, all stuck

Faintin', shoutin', catchin' Holy Ghost in church
Scared to do it for ourselves 'less we see somebody doin' it first
We begged, we prayed, petitioned and demonstrated
Just to make another generation, black zombies

Walkin', talkin' dead, though we think we're livin'
(Black zombies)
We just copy cat, followin' the system
(Black zombies)

Walkin', talkin' dead, though we think we're livin
(Black zombies)
We just copy-cat, followin' the system
(Black zombies)

You scared to be yourself 'cause you in a trance
Feel free, hear the music and dance
If you cared what they think, why wear what they wear, just for you
Dumb niggaz with long beards like they Arabs or Jews

Or from Israel, Bismi-Allah Al-rahman Al-raheem
Islam's a beautiful thing
And Christian and Rastafari, helps us to bring
Peace against the darkness, which is un-Godly

So, what's the black man's true religion, who should we follow?
Use your own intuition, you are tomorrow
That's the sound of the beast, I'm a Columbia record slave, so get paid
Control your own destiny, you are a genius
Don't let it happen to you like it did to me, I was a black zombie

Walkin', talkin' dead, though we think we're livin'
(Black zombies)
We just copy cat, followin' the system
(Black zombies)

Walkin', talkin' dead, though we think we're livin
(Black zombies)
We just copy-cat, followin' the system
(Black zombies)

Wake up, black zombies in a spell for more than fo'-hundred years
Ghetto niggaz won't have it no mo', can I get a witness?
Why listen to somebody else tell you how to do it?
When you can do it yourself? It's all in you, do it, do it
Do it niggaz

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ab196795803b512d5206069414918bfa

Hip Hop Hooray - Lyrics - 19 Naughty III - Naughty By Nature

Title: Hip Hop Hooray
Album: 19 Naughty III
Artist: Naughty By Nature
Composer(s): Keir Gist, Christopher H. Jasper, O'Kelly Isley, Vincent Vinnie Brown, Anthony Criss, Ernie Isley, Ronald Isley, Rudolph Isley, Marvin Isley

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Hip hop hooray ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho

You drew a picture of my morning
But you couldn't make my day, hey
I'm rockin' and you're yawning
But you never look my way, hey

I'm lickin' down you darlin'
In every single way, hey
Your funny flow is foreign
And a Green Card's on the way

This ain't got shit to do wit shampoo
But watch your Head & Shoulders
Brother older bold enough to fold ya I told ya
A raid afraid of what I made of played
Plus a funky fit so save ya flips
Plus tricks for that music in the monkey bit

Triggas from the grill town ill town some ask how it feels now
The deal is that we're real so we're still around
Don't lamp wit a freestyle phantom ain't tryin' to be handsome
Shrinkin' what ya thinkin' 'cause I'm vampin'

I live and die for hip hop
This is hip hop for today
I give props to hip hop
So hip hop hooray, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho
Hip hop hooray, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho

You heard a lot about a brother gaining mo' ground
Being low down I do the showdown wit' any little ho round, no
I wanna know who you're believing through you're funny reasons
Even when I'm sleeping you think I'm cheatin'

You said, "I know you're Mr. O P P man"
Yo PP Man won't only see me man
You should've known when I hid in the step
There I was waited a bit and I consider the rep heck

I did your partner 'cause she's hot as a baker
'Cause I'm Naughty By Nature not 'cause I hate cha
You put your heart in a part of a part that spreads apart
And forgot that I forgave ya when you had a spark

You try to act like something really big is missing
Even though my name's Graffiti written on your kitten
I love black women always and disrespect ain't the way
Let's start a family today

Hip hop hooray, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho
Hip hop hooray, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho
Hip hop hip hip hop hip hip hop hooray

There's many hungry hip hoppers
One reason hip hop's tip top today
'Cause I ain't bailing no hey ain't choppin' no crops
But still grownin' ever day

Here's a thunder sound from the wonders found
From the underground town down the hill
Feel how ill town drown smiles to frowns
Snatchin' crowns from clowns beat downs are found

Don't know me don't come around
Tippy tippy pause, tippy tippy pause
Sometimes creepin' up I eat em up
Your style is older than Lou Rawls

Peace to this one and that one and them
That way I shout out and I didn't miss one friend
Fools get foolish neither them or Parker Loose Lewis
You could have crews wit shoes and can't step to us

Some kitty purr I call 'em sir too looking for her crew
Any trick that this gets a curfew
I put my projects for boots step through troops and leave proof
My problem solvers name is Mook

I hittin' woodys in a hoody, peace to Jesette, Joete, Jo Jo, Gene
And every hood gee, that's right my fight is ill
Peace goes to L.O.N.S. and quest, nice and smooth and Cypress Hill
I live and die for hip hop, this is hip hop of today
I give props to hip hop

So hip hop hooray, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho
Hip hop hooray, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho
Smooth it out now

Now
Now
Now
...

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715f286bc7f6331ddfb958cdc83ae6b2

Jack The World - Lyrics - This Toilet Earth - Gwar

Title: Jack The World
Album: This Toilet Earth
Artist: Gwar
Composer(s): Michael Bishop, David Brockie, Michael Derks, Peter Lee, Dave Musel, Bradley Dunbar Roberts

Lyric:
Rid yourself of all the worthless crap in which you wallow
Here's an iron fist of death for you to swallow
Undead from Antarctica, the signals pumping free
C'mon lets wake the maggot up, it's on Slave Pit TV

You might sleep on concrete slabs
Or be a blithering bohab
Yet your growth is exponential
If you consume excremental

Pay to play every single day
You feel your brain cells melt away
The appalling calling why don't you go away?
We'll jack your world

Now your in the maggot chamber
Corpses fill the charnel manger
Toilets pointing underground
Can't forget the sloppy sound

Jack jack the world
Jack jack the world
Jack jack the world

Pay to play every single day
You feel your brain cells melt away
The appalling calling why don't you go away?
We'll jack your world

I wanna suck like lovers do
I wanna lose a Grammy too
I wanna kick the teeth outta you

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d250a67cb6585a44e7a7edcb04d60f73

Maxi Curls - Lyrics - Black Elvis / Lost In Space - Kool Keith

Title: Maxi Curls
Album: Black Elvis / Lost In Space
Artist: Kool Keith
Composer(s): Keith Thornton, Kurt Matlin

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
I see maxi curls
(Yeah)
Players, activator
I see maxi curls
(Yeah)
Remote control alligators

I got skill, you're on my tip, now back off
Slack off, let me do this
And y'all turn the whack off
The radio stereo here we go, flow and blow

Puerto Rico, South side, Latin, you're feed pattern
Black people mingle, white people, buy my single
Bingo bangle, let go my steel Ego
Throwing rhymes in spirals like Joe Klecko

Miami Dolphin, now shut up
Close your mouth and
You be hatin', debatin', regurgitatin'
Ratin' latent, and perpetratin'

My album's love mics, tough like dirt bikes
You get frantic
New York City, run and panic
California, I switch up, boogie on ya

Like Don Cornelius, on soul train
And heads I clip off, in rap leave a bloodstain
A bigger pain, you would need Novocaine
Bite off Rakim, you copy Big Daddy Kane

You know my steelo, I rhyme against a million people
Who think they equal, disguising as Jamaican people
Fakin', funkin', you're pedigree, your beat is sunk in
Tonka toy of little boy, stepping down to Roy

I'm no joke, I rap for cash and you're buyin' a coat
Bronx bomber, superb on the freak momma
Stinkin' movin', my whole crew is comin' through
Yeah

I see maxi curls
(Yeah)
Players, activator
I see maxi curls
(Yeah)
Remote control alligators

'Bout it, 'bout it, like Master P, makin' money G
No time for promos, get paid when I MC
You know my feeling, I'm dealing, with tracks so real
And radio blackout, your format, is not appealin'

R & B can step up, but can't compare to me
You oughta know how, I, feel
That's wack, with book bags, packed on your back
Video bop, my skin is black bet

Program your channels, your grandkids wanna see me
Freakin' status, freakin' styles, freakin' flows
Freakin' foes, freakin' lyrics, freakin' spirits
I make a def person hear it

Duplicate you demonstrate, what I used to make
Remakes I watch, your crew'll imitate
Motivate still skills to pay bills
Creative sauce, watch out, I'm your boss

On Panasonic like Steve, style bionic
You get to workin', your head bop, you not jerkin'
You be out lurkin' for danger, in my Ranger
You think I'm bugged man? With Cat woman, like a stranger

Packed with speed, supersonic level Reed
Steelo jets and Bill Blass like rockets
In your pockets, damagin' your brain sockets
Yeah

I see maxi curls
(Yeah)
Players, activator
I see maxi curls
(Yeah)
Remote control alligators

Like Mobile, settin' up shop in Alabama
For proper grammar, my style Arm & Hammer
Strong computer, underground like Roto Rooter
Fools critics they mimic, copy, sloppy

MC's get hurt, you blockhead, try to stop me
Digital thinkin', you're blinkin', career sinkin'
Old like Mod Squad, you rap like Lincoln
Sideburns turned, you catchin' ringworm

A heavy virus, worser than, hepatitis
Schizophrenic like ten people out the clinic
Yankee Stadium uptown, you can't win the pennant
I do construction, you pack up your whole production

Your lips are ready, your girl has a nice suction
Pack her bags pack her bags pack her bags right
Pack her bags pack her bags pack her bags left
Your style is A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S

Don't test, I taught you how to get your deals
You put my style on your reels
You went uptown, claimin' my sound
Get back, stay down

I see maxi curls
(Yeah)
Players, activator
I see maxi curls
(Yeah)
Remote control alligators

I see maxi curls
(Yeah)
Players, activator
I see maxi curls
(Yeah)
Remote control alligators

Maxi curl, activator
Brought to you by, Kool Keith

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